


the midnight hour is close at hand

by metonymy



Category: Raven Cycle - Maggie Stiefvater
Genre: Gen, Halloween, Magic, Pre-Series, Rituals, Trick or Treating
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-10-23
Updated: 2015-10-23
Packaged: 2018-04-27 18:41:59
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 640
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5059774
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/metonymy/pseuds/metonymy
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Nobody ever bothers to trick-or-treat at 300 Fox Way. That's probably for the best.</p>
            </blockquote>





	the midnight hour is close at hand

**Author's Note:**

  * For [coyotesuspect](https://archiveofourown.org/users/coyotesuspect/gifts).



> Happy Halloween, coyotesuspect!

Nobody ever trick-or-treated at 300 Fox Way. 

What was more surprising was that the house was also left entirely alone. Sure, there were dares among the braver and more testosterone-laden boys at Henrietta High. There always were. But before the first roll of toilet paper or egg could be thrown, one of the women would appear in an attic window, her face lit from below by a candle, and the faint screams of the teenagers would be heard as they turned tail and ran. 

Persephone came back into the kitchen with a wordless sigh. 

"Honestly, Persephone, you don't have to do that. They already think this house is haunted," Calla said, opening a miniature candy bar. The kitchen was warm and bright, the smell of baking bread filling the air as it always did on this night alone. Persephone merely smiled and knelt next to Blue. 

Blue was sorting industriously through her candy despite the late hour, her parrot's beak sitting in the middle of the kitchen table like a stumpy banana. Persephone was small enough that when she stooped next to Blue's chair she was shorter than the girl. Blue looked down at her with a quizzical expression through the flamboyant green and blue eyeshadow Jimi had painted on her earlier that evening. 

"Blue," Persephone said softly. "Would you like to come up to my room for a story?"

"Can I bring my candy?" Blue asked, her fingers wrapping around a Blow Pop. 

"You can bring two pieces," Persephone whispered. Blue considered this for a moment, then made her choices and swept the rest of the candy back into the spangled purse she'd borrowed to hold her loot. 

"I'll take that," Maura said, taking the purse and tucking it into one of the tall cabinets. Blue started to pout, but Persephone took her by the hand and led her up the stairs. 

Calla reached into the liquor cabinet for a dusty bottle of bourbon. Maura rummaged in the spice shelves and withdrew a handful of herbs which she sniffed before shrugging. Other odds and ends from around the kitchen were picked up, weighed, added or discarded. Then they walked out to the backyard and sat beneath the beech tree. 

Maura put down the loaf of freshly baked bread and kindled a tiny fire in the space between two of the tree's roots while Calla poured a measure of bourbon into a teacup. Then she took a swig from the bottle for good measure, offering it to Maura. 

"Some of us have to get a child to school tomorrow," Maura said, not looking. 

"Never seemed fair to me when Halloween was on a weeknight," Calla said, shrugging and setting the bottle down. She picked up an apple and pulled out her pocketknife, deftly slicing it in half. "Just doesn't seem to fit right." 

Maura took the knife when Calla put down the apple halves on either side of the teacup, scratching a pattern into the dirt. "That's life, Calla. Things change and we do our best to keep up."

Persephone walked out of the house, the porch door banging behind her. The candle in her hands was fat and white and burned with a bright flame. 

"Blue?" Maura asked, her eyes flicking up to the windows of the house again. 

"Asleep," Persephone confirmed. Blue's powers were often helpful, but on a night like this they didn't need that amplification. Not if they wanted Henrietta to stay where it was, a daylight town. 

Maura tossed her handful of herbs into the fire, the stink of their burning immediate and strong. A gust of wind rippled through Persephone's hair, silver in the dim light. The flame of the candle leapt up and danced.

Calla smiled, the gleam of it bright as the flicker of the firelight over the blade. "Then let's begin."


End file.
